Helius Sol and the Stolen Lightening
by ChaosGamer
Summary: Edit: In for another major revamp in the plot... After Summer Vacation starts. Stay tuned. When I was reading this story, there was one problem: I was not in the story. So I decided to rewrite it. Read as my character goes on adventures with the original cast.
1. Prologue

_Crash._

"Roar!"

"Shoot." I muttered as I dodged to the side to avoid pieces of glass impaling itself against me.

Fifth time; fifth. Fifth time a monster tracked me down and attacked me.

I now owed damages to five buildings to U.S. Department of Education.

Not that it was my fault, of course. Ever since I reached 8, monsters have been attacking me left and right.

_Crash!_

Right. A monster attacking me. This one looked like a giant dog.

I looked around for a possible weapon. Unfortunately, a classroom did not have much of that to offer.

Hmm, a fire extinguisher. I could use it to cut off oxygen from the animal... But did it need oxygen in the first place?

_Boom._

Too late to reconsider. I took the extinguisher out.

_This better work,_ I thought.

"Take the pin off... Grab the hose..."

I pushed the lever.

White, foamy substance came out from the muzzle of the hose.

The beat began to thrash around in the middle of the substance. Long after I used up the extinguisher, it fell to the ground. It didn't disintegrate. That meant that it simply fell unconscious with lack of oxygen.

I needed to kill it, fast.

Throwing the empty extinguisher to the ground, I searched for something he could kill the beast with. Then I noticed a glass container with an axe inside. Inscription on the glass read:

**Open only in a case of emergency.**

"Well, this is an emergency." I muttered as he opened the container and took out the axe.

I aimed the axe carefully at the neck of the beast.

_Slice._

It was over.

I leaned on the wall, exhausted from my battle. I needed my well-deserved sleep. I try to settle on someplace to sleep, boom, another monster attacks.

I slowly closed my eyes.

_No._

Graah. There was that voice again. The same voice that led me to safety in times of danger.

_I must lead you to your true home, _the voice continued. _The mortal world is too dangerous for you now._

_Gee, _I thought. _I guess I go to this place where they take care of people like us._

* * *

I held and studied the gold coin closely.

Some dude and a building were stamped on each side. It looked like it was made out of gold.

Eh. Shame it was about to be used.

"Stêthi, 'Ô hárma diabolês!" I yelled out loud. I threw the gold coin to the ground.

It sank into the ground.

Then, just where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking space—bubbling red liquid like blood. Then a car erupted from the ooze.

It was a taxi, but unlike every other taxi in New York, it wasn't yellow. It was smoky gray. It looked like it was woven out of smoke, like you could walk right through it. There were words printed on the door—something like GYAR SSIRES.

_Grey Sisters,_ my mind automatically translated.

Guess I should tell you about this. You see, whenever I ask a question inside my mind, it answers back. Cool down time is needed for longer answers, or harder ones; but no problem for spelling tests. It's sweet when there are memorization tests; you never need to study.

The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a mop of grizzled hair covering her eye sockets, and she spoke in a weird mumbling way, like she'd just had a shot of anesthetic drug. "Passage? Passage?"

"...Who are you?"

"Tempest, one of the proud drivers of the Grey Sisters Taxi. Now where to?"

"Camp Half Blood."

I unwillingly entered.

The interior was also smoky gray, but it felt solid enough. The seat was cracked and lumpy—no different than most taxis. There was no Plexiglas screen separating us from the old lady driving ... Wait a minute. There wasn't just one old lady. There were three, all crammed in the front seat, each with stringy hair covering her eyes, bony hands, and a charcoal-colored sackcloth dress.

Tempest floored the accelerator, and my head slammed against the backrest.

A prerecorded voice came on over the speaker: Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!

I looked down and found a large black chain instead of a seat belt. I decided I wasn't that desperate ... yet.

"So, umm..." I stroke a conversation while we raced over the Baxter Avenue. "Are all of you blind?"

"Yes!" yelled one.

"Yes!" yelled one.

"Of course not!" yelled another.

...Great.

"Umm, ok..." I continued. "I am not that in a hurry though. You can slow down. Wouldn't want you guys to lose your license."

"That's all right." The one in the middle with a tooth turned around and grinned at me. "We don't have one."

"…Fan-freakin-tastic." I muttered, as I buckled the chain around me.

* * *

The car shuddered to break along a hill.

I came out of the cab, clutching my stomach.

I am never, ever entering that cab again.

"Greetings." A clip clop sounded over the hill.

Ok, either I am tripping or I am seeing a centaur.

I'd say I was not tripping.

"Who are you now?"

* * *

Ok, so, these gods exist.

And I am at this camp, where it is only safe place for us... demigods.

A camp led by a centaur and a grumpy god in Hawaii shirt.

Chiron, the centaur read the letter given to me by Apollo.

His expression became more and more pronounced until he looked up from the letter.

"Helius... that's your name, am I right? You will stay in Apollo cabin for now." He looked at the boy standing at attention next to him. "Show Helius around."

"Hey," the boy greeted me. "I'm James Nock, head counselor of Apollo cabin. You got any healing talents?"

"I know how to do CPR."

"Hmm. Any magic healing?"

"Nope."

"Weird. Any singing talents?"

"I was often told that my singing gives nightmares."

"...Huh. Poetry?"

"I hate poetry."

He raised his eyes. "Then what can you do?"

I grinned. "I can do this."

I burst into fire.

James took a wild step back, taken aback by the heat. I quickly turned the fire off.

"I can't really summon fire for a while. A minute of it and I get tired."

"W-what else can you do?" James asked haltingly.

I aimed my fist at the forest. Red laser flashed out of my fist, and a deer jumped and ran around while on fire.

After few seconds I was waving my smoking hand.

"I can basically control fire and any kind of light. Illusions, invisibility, UV ray, et cetera. It's very limited, though."

He stared at me. "I never saw your kind before. Never."

I shrugged. "I'm one of a kind."

* * *

Charlie Beckendorf looked like Barry Bonds.

We were currently in the armory. I was looking at weapons, my favorite part of the camp, while Beckendorf talked excitedly about the history of wars.

My eyes caught a rusty sword in the furthermost corner of the room. It was leaf shaped sword with a midrib, and had a double-edged blade widest at about two-thirds of its length from the point, and ending in a very long point. It was about 2 feet and a half long, including the hilt.

I picked up the sword. It fit perfectly in my hand.

"Hey, Beck," I called out. "What's that?"

"Oh, that?" He took the sword. "This is Xiphos."

"Penetrating Light." I automatically translated. "Whoa. How did I..."

"How did you know?" Beckendorf looked impressed. "It is one of the fewest surviving swords in existence. This one was wielded by Actaeon."

"The guy that got turned into a deer." I replied.

"Yeah. He used the sword for close ranged combat. Many people prefer longer swords. You want to use one? You can't use this one though."

"Make me one. Same size; I think I like Xiphos."

"You sure? Ok then. I'll make one for you. Hey, we can also enchant it so that it turns into something else when you don't need it. What do you want it turning into?"

_Hmm..._

"A ring. Like the One Ring of the Lord of the Rings. A simple gold ring with a description: φωτός διατρήσεως."

"Sounds cool." Beckendorf looked excited. "I'll make one for you."

"Thanks man. I owe you big time." I replied. "You ever need anything, tell me."

"Yeah, about that..." He leaned down to whisper inside my ear. "I was hoping you could help with me and... Silena. Silena Beauregard.

I grinned. "Beck, you sly dawg... I'll help all I can with matchmaking. Just ask me."


	2. Chapter 1

_Time skip to 4 years ahead_

Well, I settled well into Camp Half Blood. Just few months after I settle into the camp, in came Annabeth and Luke, Thalia unfortunately turned into a pine tree.

James Nock died in his quest two years ago. Chiron went and fetched his body from the outside world. We burned a shroud and mourned his death.

Lee Fletcher fortunately replaced him as the head counselor.

Lots of things happened; but more things were to happen.

* * *

I woke up to one of the campers waking me up.

"Jeez, Helius. You sleep like a log."

"What time is it?"

"9:00. you always miss breakfast."

I yawned and stretched my limbs.

"What's the news, mates?"

"I guy was found at the Half Blood hill. Killed a Minotaur by himself. Was holding his horns when he was found."

"Minotaur, eh? Better go check him out."

* * *

I silently stepped onto the door of the Infirmity. I peeked through the crack of the door.

Annabeth was nursing someone with a black hair and sea green eyes.

_Son of Poseidon._ My mind automatically answered.

He opened his eyes.

"What will happen at the summer solstice?" Annabeth asked.

"What?" He croaked.

She looked around; as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I don't..."

I knocked.

There was quick shuffling of silverware, and Annabeth opened the door.

"Oh... Hey Helius. You finally woke up."

"That's what they all say." I joked in mock-irritation. "No 'Hey, how's it going?' or 'What's happenin'. Just 'You woke up'."

Annabeth smiled.

"So this is the guy?"

"Yeah." Annabeth nodded toward him. "I thought he'd be the one..."

"He might be, as far as we know." I replied mysteriously. Argus entered.

* * *

[Percy's POV]

The next time I woke up, the girl was gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes— at least a dozen of them—on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

Next to him, stood a guy leaning on the walls. He had good looks, no doubt; but his eyes were color of yellow.

And his messy blonde hair seemed to defy gravity.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest.

My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry.

My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover, Not the goat boy.

So maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And...

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I... well, the least I could do ... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap.

Inside was a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

"The Minotaur," I said.

"Urn, Percy, it isn't a good idea—"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" I demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she really ..."

He looked down.

I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm—I'm the worst satyr in the world."

He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled.

Thunder rolled across the clear sky.

As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I thought, well, that settles it.

Grover was a satyr. I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaurs. All that meant was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I was alone. An orphan. I would have to live with ... Smelly Gabe? No. That would never happen. I would live on the streets first. I would pretend I was seventeen and join the army. I'd do something.

"Well, technically, your mother is not gone."

Grover and I looked over the to blonde kids I saw earlier.

"Let me guess, Percy Jackson." The kid smiled. He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Helius."

He put his hand down. "Or we could save the handshake for later. You seem battered."

I looked over to Grover.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did my mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least... I was."

"Grover," Helius said firmly. "You still are a keeper."

"But why are you my... "I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips.

I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. And not just any cookies—my mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy.

My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asked.

I nodded.

"What did it taste like?" He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

"Sorry," I said. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just... wondered."

Helius grinned. "Satyrs can't drink Nectar, Unfortunately."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I said. "My mom's. Home-made."

He sighed. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards."

"Who's Nancy Bobofit?" asked Helius interested.

"Oh... some kid from school."

Helius took the glass and set it on the table. "Let's go. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse.

My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I wasn't going to let it go.

As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there,

I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods.

Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

"Sweet place, isn't it?" Helius asked.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— what do you call them, hubbubs?

No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody."

"Except for me." Helius interrupted.

"And you already know Chiron..."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks." I scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

"She is pretty, isn't she?" Helius whispered, standing right next to me.

I wonder how he knew.

She glanced at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a minotaur! Or Wow, you're so awesome! Or something like that.

Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep."

"Rejected~" Helius whispered chuckling.

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex—Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?"

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence."

"Convinced being key word there." Helius mentioned.

I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother; let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I said.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.

"Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."

"I don't." Helius yawned.

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.

"Please," I said, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question."

The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile.

Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?'

"She said ..." I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I asked.

He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" I asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—"that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive."

I stared at the others around the table.

I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!"

He cackled as he tallied up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

"Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G , God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."

"Zeus," I said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloud-less day.

"Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."

"But they're stories," I said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Well, I was named after an element in Periodic Table..." Helius muttered.

I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut.

"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal.

Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"Which will be boring." Helius said.

I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron's voice made me hesitate.

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," I said.

"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that some-day people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe."

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.

"Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions."

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

More thunder.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

"Usually, I would prefer soda." Helius muttered. "Even the smell of hard drinks makes me have headache."

Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair."

Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

"And ..." I stammered, "your father is ..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master.

"You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!?"

"Pretty much." Helius shrugged.

"Y-yes, Mr. D."

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

"You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"Say no." Helius whispered through his teeth.

"No. No, sir."

The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners."

He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like...in America?"

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

"The what?"

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization was obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And

yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club.

"Who are you, Chiron? Who ... who am I?"

"That's the question everybody asks." Helius deadpanned.

Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box were empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Helius will be in charge of showing you around."


	3. Chapter 2

Helius and I began to look around.

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I wasn't normally shy, but the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.

I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I'd realized—four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

"What's up there?" I asked Helius.

He looked where I was pointing.

"Oh, its the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"Well, it's hard to say." Helius mumbled thoughtfully. "It never speaks unless it has to. Doesn't even need food to live. Come on Percy. Lot's to see."

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

"Free money." Helius said, as he waved his hand over the field. "We grow crops with magic, and we sell it."

He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire. I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" I asked Helius. "He is a really good protector... really."

Helius grimanced. "Grover has big dreams Percy; dreams I have no doubt that he will succeed in, however he first have to find and bring a camper safely to Camp."

"But he did that!"

"I agree." Helius said full-heartedly. "But I can't decide that. Mr. D and Council of Elders are the ones to decide. And if we take a look in the fact that Grover lost you in New York, and the regrettable accident with your mom... Things don't look good for Grover.

I wanted to protest. None of what happened was Grover's fault. I also felt really, really guilty. If I hadn't given Grover the slip at the bus station, he might not have gotten in trouble.

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Helius sighed. "That was his second chance, Percy. Chiron advised him to wait until he was older..."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans. Time goes twice slower."

"That's horrible."

"True," Helius agreed. "I only wish that Grover would be successful at his dream. But who knows?"

"That's not fair," I said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

"You could say that..." Helius muttered. "Let's go."

But I wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop. Something had occurred to me when Helius said that my mom technically didn't die. The beginnings of an idea—a tiny, hopeful fire—started forming in my mind."

"Helius" I said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real ..."

"Yeah?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah. You're not thinking of going there, are you?" Helius asked.

"...Nah, of course not."

"Let's go see that woods." Helius said, with apparent wish to change subjects.

As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

"The woods are stocked." Helius said. "You can go adventuring down there, but you better be armed."

"Stocked with what?" I asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"My own—?"

"Hmm, maybe not. Chiron will visit armory later."

I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables, the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Helius said they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" I asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal, usually... and there's the mess hall."

He pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea.

There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" I asked.

He laughed. "I'd like to see them try. Special boundaries. No weather can come in here."

Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I'd ever seen.

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory.

Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dot-ted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.

"Ah, you noticed Hestia." Helius said, looking at where I was looking. "Not everyone notices her."

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" I guessed.

"Yep." Helius said, popping the p.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot. Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty?

I stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I peeked inside the open doorway.

Before Helius could pull me back, I caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely.

"Let's move along."

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.

I kept walking. "We haven't seen any other centaurs," I observed.

"No, well, of course not." Helius replied. "His blood relatives are all barbarians. You could find a few in the wild, but not here."

"He said his name was Chiron, is his name really ..."

"The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yeah, he is."

"But, shouldn't he be dead?"

"Well, Chiron made a wish long time ago to stay alive as long as he was needed. Guess he still needed."

I thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn't have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list.

"Anyhow, heres Chiron." He waved to Centaur in the distance. "See you. I'll be at Cabin Seven."


	4. Chapter 3

I stared into the lake, wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once.

I wasn't expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below. They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend.

I didn't know what else to do. I waved back.

"Don't encourage them." Helius said next to me. "Naiads. flirting with mortals and immortals since Ancient Times."

"Naiads," I repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. "That's it. I want to go home now."

Helius smiled. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."

"You mean, mentally disturbed kids?"

He laughed. "Nice one. But not mentally disturbed; a mere half human."

"Half-human and half-what?"

"I think you know."

I didn't want to admit it, but I was afraid I did. I felt a tingling in my limbs, a sensation I sometimes felt when my mom talked about my dad.

"God," I said. "Half-god."

He nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians."

"That's ... crazy."

"Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"

"But those are just—" I almost said myths again. Then I remembered Chiron's warning that in two thousand years, I might be considered a myth. "But if all the kids here are half-gods—"

"Demigods," Helius said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods."

"Then who's your dad?"

His hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject.

"I know who he is, but I never met him."

"I thought it was Apollo."

"Close. its Helios."

"What's the difference?"

"Petty Romans downsized him." He scowled. "Complained about the cost of building Alters."

"So...Who was your mom?"

"...I don't know. She died while giving birth. I had to grow up in orphanage."

His grip tightened.

"Not a really pleasant experience. I do get upset at times, but I am his last descendent. He is faded. He is... gone."

He let go of the railings. He frowned.

"Ah, its not so bad at times. He knew he was going to disappear one day. That's what happens when no one notices you... He gave me his powers."

"What powers?"

"It surpasses mere Half-Bloods. Ability to travel up to speed of light like Flash. Photokinesis; I can combine light beams and lasers and fire it out of my hands like Iron Man. Pyrokinesis; I can fly around like Human Torch. I can induce or cure blindness. I can see-all, hear-all, know-all. I have gift of prophesies; I dream every night. I can even control the sun..."

Smile crept up to his face and he shone as he described the powers he had.

"The only difference between me and him is my limit as a mortal."

"As in?"

He was in deep thought. "Eh, I can't really travel at speed of light. I would die instantly. For two reasons; I would incinerate because air molecules can't get out of my way fast enough, resulting in them being built up in my body until I burn due to friction. Although that could theoretically be controlled by my Pyrokinesis. Also, moving in high speed really depletes my energy. I would burn all my calories instantly. Same goes for flying; I can't maintain flying for over a minute. Same goes for my all seeing power; it's practical, but very limited. It's cool when you get to know all the answers on the exams you get, all the answers teachers ask you to see if you are paying attention, even though I have dyslexia. I can use Future Sight Attack like Lucario and predict my opponent's movements before they strike. But I can't really see the big picture of the future... only small things. But other than that... It's pretty sweet."

Hmm, why not. I thought.

"What about my dad?"

"Like Annabeth said, undetermined. We don't know who it is."

"Except my mother. She knew."

"Maybe, maybe not. Gods don't always reveal their identities."

"My dad would have. He loved her."

"I'm sure he did, but there is the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens.

"You mean sometimes it doesn't?"

"...The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us."

I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. I'd known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn't have the time to deal with them. But gods should behave better.

"So I'm stuck here," I said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?"

"Probably," Helius said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."

"So monsters can't get in here?"

He shook his head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside."

"Why would anybody want to summon a monster?"

"Blame Hermes' Cabin. Practical Joke."

"Practical Joke?"

"The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm."

"So ... you're a year-rounder?"

He nodded. "Everyone else wears a bead necklace to signify how long they stayed here. But not me; It's cumbersome. You really can't focus on fighting when you are constantly worrying about losing your necklace. I have been here since I was Six; Annabeth, the second oldest, has been here since she was Seven."

"Why did you come so young?"

"Well, like I said, orphanage was not a pleasant experience."

"Oh." I stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. "So ... I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?"

"It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless you were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time ..."

His voice trailed off.

"Back in the sick room," I said, "when Annabeth was feeding me that stuff-"

"Ambrosia."

"Yeah, that. She asked me something about summer solstice.

He raised his eyebrows. "So you do know something about it."

"Well... no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?"

"Something's wrong in Olympus." He said, "Something very important was stolen. Can't tell you much more than that."

"You've been to Olympus?"

"Some of us year-rounders—Luke and Annabeth and I and a few others—we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council."

"But... how did you get there?"

"The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor. You are a New-Yorker, right?"

"Oh, sure." As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out.

"Right after we left, the weather has not been it's usual self. Olympian Gods seemed to be arguing about something. If the stolen item is not returned by summer solstice..."

I shook my head. I wished I could help them, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions.

"Annabeth wishes to be able to go to the quest. She's been muttering about that ever since the incident. Well as for me- is that barbecue?"

My stomach growled. He told me to go on.


	5. Chapter 4

[Helius' POV]

Percy seemed to settle into the camp as time went by. After getting over his first battle, he subsequently took lessons from friends around him. Annabeth teaching him Ancient Greek, Chiron and I teaching him archery (which he sadly had no potential with.), foot racing with Nymphs, wrestling with other campers, etc. The only skill he was great at was canoeing. This led to the theory of my suspecting Percy of being son of Poseidon, although I had to wait for a while for potential clue.

Thursday afternoon. It was Percy's first practice on sword fighting. We started with slashing the dummies with our swords. I had to use my practice sword, seeing that I only had my throwing axe. No sword would fit on my hands comfortably.

We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be Percy's partner, since this was his first time.

Luke showed him thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way. With every swipe, he got a little more battered and bruised. "Keep your guard up, Percy," he'd say, then whap him in the ribs with the flat of his blade. "No, not that far up!" Whap! "Lunge!" Whap! "Now, back!" Whap!

He called a break. Everybody rushed to drinks cooler. I took a gulp out of my bottle.

"Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo."

We gathered around. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.

"This is difficult," he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique."

He demonstrated the move on in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of my hand. "Now in real time," he said, after he retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?"

Percy fared better this time; avoiding Luke's technique, he slashed and parried. Luke's face changed, pushing him harder.

Percy tried the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke's and he twisted.

_Clang._

Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of his blade was an inch from his undefended chest.

We were silent.

He lowered his sword. "Um, sorry."

For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

This time, there was no contest. The moment their swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?"

"Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword... ."

[3rd POV]

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we all stood at our tables.

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support.

Helius grinned. Since he was the oldest, he got the best of the trade.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. The only cabin that worried him was Dionysus, and they only had two kids.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

Helius began to put on his suit. He was given the job of border patrol, with his Bow and Arrow.

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

The sky darkened. it was a warm night; not the best time to wear a full iron armor.

He didn't mind guarding the area. Last time he was on the head of the game; this time he wanted to relax.

Wait, several kids of Ares' cabin was running the opposite direction of the flag.

His eyes widened. Percy. He was stationed to guard patrol on the other side of the field.

Forgetting about his patrol, he began to run on the other direction.

He ran until he heard loud noises coming form the creek.

He stopped in surprise as he saw Percy beating the kids from the Ares' cabin.

In water.

He grimaced. This further proved his theory.

Then he heard yelling, elated screams, and he saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse.

"A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick."

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over. We won.

Before they had much time to celebrate, he heard a canine growl. A howl ripped through the forest.

The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek: "Stand ready! My bow!"

He instinctively aimed with his bow.

There on the rocks there was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

It was looking straight at me.

Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, run!"

The hellhound jumped over Annabeth in front of Percy. His claws tripped through his armor, and as he was about to bite Percy's throat off, Helius let go of the bowstring.

_Thwack._

There was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hounds neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I was still alive. I didn't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor. My chest felt warm and wet, and I knew I was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned Percy into a hundred pounds of shredded meat.

Chiron trotted up next to them, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!"Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't ... they're not supposed to ..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her.

We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared.

"You're wounded," Annabeth told him. "Quick, Percy, get in the water."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not," she said. "Chiron, watch this."

Percy stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around him.

Instantly, his wounds on his body closed up. The campers gasped.

"Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good."

"It is determined," Chiron announced.

All around him, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it.

"My father?" He asked, completely bewildered.

"Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."


	6. Chapter 5

[Helius POV]

Well, the truth got out.

For some time, I was making hypothesis about Percy's true parentage. A clue was given when I saw that Percy was expert at canoeing.

Than the fact that Percy was much better around areas of water, the fact that he successfully achieved Disarming Maneuver after taking a leaf out of Luke's book and pouring the water on himself.

And now he was claimed. That meant only one thing; Percy will be given a quest.

Throughout the years, I was getting more and more agitated. I did not want to be stuck in Camp all day, doing nothing but training for God knows what. If they thought that I was going to pass up this chance to be able to go to a quest, they were mistaken.

But how? Quite a few people will be willing to go to this quest. Grover would certainly go, for his license to search Pan. Annabeth also will be willing to tag along. I did not miss those mumblings fits she went into every time after training Percy. That made three. Chiron won't be quite willing to let go 4.

Well, if he didn't like the idea of me going, too bad. I was looking for adventure.

I heard a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold. I looked out to the window. There, over there, was Grover. He went inside the Cabin 3.

He was fetching Percy. I had to follow.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.

I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheel-chair. They were playing against invisible opponents-two sets of cards hovering in the air.

* * *

"Well?" Chiron asked him.

Percy slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."

Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"

"What did the Oracle sayexactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important."

"She... she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

"I knew it," Grover said.

Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

Percy hesitated.

Me, being son of Helios, of course knew what the prophesy was... and I didn't blame him for hesitating.

"No," I said. "That's about it."

He studied his face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

"Okay," he said, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, which stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?"

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

Somewhat wrong, but logical.

"Hades."

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon..."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest."

"Great," Percy muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me."

"But a quest to ..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

Or something close to a truth.

Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

"Look, if we know its Hades," Percy told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt them-selves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere; challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used."

"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."

His face reflected mixed emotions.

He looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said ... I've spoken to the Oracle, too."

"So let me get this straight," he said. "I'm supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron said.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

I looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.

"Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly.

"You don't have to go," Percy told him. "I can't ask that of you.

"Oh ..." He shifted his hooves. "No ... it's just that satyrs and underground places ... well..."

He took a deep breath, and then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If ... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."

"All the way, G-man." He turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west."

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

"Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—"

...What?

"No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

He shook his head.

"Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain.

You would never come down again alive."

Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed.

"Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered, if you will accept her help."

"Gee," I said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?"

The air shimmered behind Chiron.

Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," he said. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?"

"A trio," I said. "That'll work."

"Hold up a minute, my dude."

They all stared at the air in amazement. I shimmered back into an image.

"Wha.. How did you do that?" Percy asked, amazed.

I shrugged. "Simple light manipulation. Photokinesis; I simply made light pass through me. Oh, and I also want to go.

I stared at Chiron expectedly.

He hesitated. "Helius... this is going against the divine laws of nature. An adventurer is only allowed two companions. Having four to go is simply bad idea.

"But I want to go," I argued. "I have not been allowed a quest since I came here. And I am the oldest at the camp. Others already got to go on a quest or two."

Chiron grimaced. I got him there.

"I suppose..." he chose his words carefully. "A person acting as a guide would not matter that much. But I must warn you. Consequences will follow."

"I accept whatever harm that might befall us because of me." I responded. I tried to look brave.

"Alright," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."


	7. Chapter 6

[Helios POV]

I did not take many stuff for this trip. Only extra change of clothes, my bow and arrow, my IPod, and my ring.

The camp store loaned us one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. Chiron gave Annabeth, Percy, and me each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve.

Percy carried his minotour horn and his sword.

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

We waved goodbye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood Argus. He had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra eyes on his hands, face and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron told me. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

"Ba dum tish." I mimed drumming motion.

I heard footsteps behind us.

Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told me. "And I thought ... um, maybe you could use these."

He handed Percy the sneakers. Luke said,"Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling Percy so much, he dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days..." His expression turned sad.

"Hey, man," Percy said. "Thanks."

"Listen, Percy ..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just ... kill some monsters for me, okay?"

We shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, and then gave a goodbye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.

After Luke was gone, I told her, "You're hyperventilating."

"Am not."

"Am too." I replied.

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"

"Oh... why do I want to go anywhere with you, Helius?"

She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road.

Argus followed, jingling his car keys.

Percy picked up the flying shoes and looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air ... that would not be wise for you."

He nodded, disappointed, but then I got an idea. "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes lit up. "Me?"

Pretty soon we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.

"Maia!" he shouted.

He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!"

"Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van.

Before Percy could follow, Chiron caught his arm. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he said. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more training."

* * *

"Helius," Chiron turned his attention on me. "I do not mean to lie to you and say that your lives are not endangered... Since you are the fourth one to follow, consequences will follow and either your group will split apart or be grievously injured... Are you sure you want to go?

I hesitated. However...

"If I don't go now," I replied, "When? And How?"

Chiron nodded sadly. "Best of Luck to you," he said, bidding farewell. "May the Fates forbid anything bad happens... Go along."

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth, Percy Grover sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers. After years at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy told Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"Saltwater Spring is good source of salt."

"They must really like olives."

"Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."

"Or if she invented Hot Dog stand." I continued.

"I said, forget it!"

In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at us.

Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain.

Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with familiar picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?

Percy ripped it down.

Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, and then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot.

This is it, I thought. We are officially on our own.

Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction Percy was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?"

"Were you reading my mind or something?"

"Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

He nodded.

"Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover told me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura…. Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week."

"Thanks," said Percy. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

His face reflected a mixed emotion; and I realized that Percy did not accept this quest to retrieve to lightning bolt; he accepted the quest in hopes of finding his mom.

The rain kept coming down.

We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples.

Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, and her shoulder, whatever. I, much to my luck, was not very good at hacky sack.

The game ended when Percy tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but we were too busy cracking up.

Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy—enchiladas.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."

"It's not nothing." I replied. "I sense a monster... a strong one."

We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers got on, Annabeth clamped her hand onto Percy's knee. "Percy."

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Shoot." I muttered.

Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Alecto—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, his voice quivering. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," I whispered.

"A back exit?" she suggested.

There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof ... ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

Alecto got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the restroom."

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I," said the third sister.

"Their kidding, right?" Helius' nervous voice whispered. "What kind of bus has restroom but doesn't have a back exit?"

They all started coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?"

"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Helius can go with you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover said. "Go!"

Percy put on the Yankee Cap. I activated my incognito mode.

We started creeping up the aisle. We managed to get up ten rows, then duck into an empty seat just as the Furies walked past.

Alecto stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at Percy.

Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going.

We made it to the front of the bus. We were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel now. Percy was about to press the emergency stop button when I heard hideous wailing from the back row.

The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surrounded Grover and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!"

The Furies raised their whips.

Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

What Percy did next was so impulsive and dangerous he should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror.

Percy grabbed the wheel from him and jerked it to the left. Everybody howled as they were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows.

"Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

They wrestled for the wheel. The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, and throwing sparks a mile behind us.

We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river.

I hit the emergency brake.

The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. I pressed against the wall and let them pass.

The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans.

Percy took off the invisible cap. "Hey!"

The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at Percy, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea.

Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward us like huge nasty lizards.

"Perseus Jackson," Alecto said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

"I liked you better as a math teacher," he told her.

She growled.

Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening.

Percy took the ballpoint pen out of my pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double edged sword.

The Furies hesitated.

Alecto had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again.

"Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

"Nice try," he told her.

"Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried.

Alecto lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at me.

Percy swung his hand and toppled the fury on the right. I threw my sword to the Fury on the left. She slammed into the side of the chair. Grover yanked the whip out of her hands.

The sword zoomed back to my hand.

"Ow!" he yelled."Ow! Hot! Hot!"

The Fury that was hilt-slammed came at Percy again, talons ready, but I threw my sword again and she broke open like a piñata. The sword came back to my hands like a boomerang.

Alecto was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Alecto legs tied up in her own whip.

Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. She tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

"Braccas meas vescimini!" Percy yelled.

Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

"Get out!" Annabeth yelled at me. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement.

We rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped our photograph before Percy could recap his sword.

"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Alecto was not yet dead.

"Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.


	8. Chapter 7

Ok, even thought that was hugely dangerous and outlandish, but you have to admit, that was fun.

Sure, having your only ticket to the West explode and having all three Furies attacking you and raining to top it all might not be on the top of your gotta do list, but it was cool, we survived...

So there we were, Annabeth and Grover and Percy and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupil and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

"Come on! The farther away we get the better."

"All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"Guys-" I tried to interrupt.

"What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"

"Guys-"

"You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine."

"Guys-"

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

"Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.

Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans ... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

"GUYS!" They stared at me. "What?" Annabeth asked irritated.

"I knew that something was going to happen," I said, holding up his bag. "I nicked your jars and Ziploc bags and all the money and put in my bag. But I only got drachmas. No mortal money. Sorry."

Silence ensued.

"Do you have my tin cans?" Grover asked hopefully.

I raised his eyebrows. I took a look. "Nope," I answered. "But I got one apple."

* * *

We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave."

"We're a team, right?"

She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died ... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I directed more light waves to my eyes to make night vision. Hey, it was my power.

"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" He asked her.

"No ... only short field trips. My dad—"

"The history professor."

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not."

I glances briefly at the girl who built up tough exterior around herself, but totally different in the inside.

"You're pretty good with that knife," Percy said.

"You think so?"

"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

She smiled.

"You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you ... Something funny back on the bus ..."

Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!"

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.

Instead of finding a path, Percy instantly slammed into a tree he couldn't see.

* * *

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. A double cheeseburger sounded nice right now.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell.

It wasn't a fastfood restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary.

I suddenly got a sinking feeling and taste of acid in my mouth.

That usually meant that strong monsters were nearby.

There was a sign on the main building.

"What the heck does that say?" Percy asked.

"I don't know," Annabeth said.

I translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

They stared at me. "I thought you were dyslexic?" Percy asked.

"I am," I admitted. "But I can predict what is written in front of me. I can guess correctly any kind of small stuff, like answers on exams or trivia questions without even knowing anything. Part of the reason I am A student." I chuckled.

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.

"Hey ..." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," Percy said wistfully.

"Snack bar," she agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" I said. "This place is weird. I sense a really strong monster."

They ignored me.

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," I reminded him.

"Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are ... looking at me."

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone.

Where are your parents?"

"They're ... um ..." Annabeth started to say.

"We're orphans," I said.

"Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"We got separated from our caravan," I said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

We thanked her and went inside.

Annabeth muttered to me, "Circus caravan?"

"Always have a strategy, right?"

She shook her head.

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life size.

I really had a bad feeling. All these statues, with creepy women with face veiled...

There it was at the back of the warehouse, a fastfood counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.

"Awesome," Percy said.

"Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."

Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but she relaxed quickly.

Dislike for child of Athena. Wait...

"Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child."

How did she know our name?

Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

Percy inhaled a burger.

Annabeth slurped her shake.

Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.

I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her head-dress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat.

"So, you sell gnomes," Percy said, sounding interested.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred.

They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company."

The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

My eyes widened. It all clicked. Statues. Head covered, story of being caught with boyfriend and cursed.

Medusa.

"Percy?" Annabeth was shaking him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting."

She sounded tense.

"Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those."

She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly.

"We really should go."

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" I asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—"

"Sure we can, it's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"

"Yes, Annabeth," the woman purred. "No harm."

I could tell Annabeth didn't like it, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girl in the middle sitting, I think, and the three young gentlemen behind."

"Not much light for a photo," I remarked.

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."

"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear."

She still had no camera in her hands.

"Percy—" Annabeth said.

"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil..."

"Percy, something's wrong," Annabeth insisted.

"Definitely wrong." I insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished.

I had not realized that I was still staring at the Medusa. I immediately blinded myself.

I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me.

Annabeth screamed, "No! Don't!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes.

"Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers.

"Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

"RUN!" I shouted, taking out my bow. "I'll handle this!"

I heard scraping of the foot, and I knew that they escaped. I heard frustrated roar right in front of me.

I grimaced. I had temporarily blinded myself in order to not be petrified. I had to rely on my sense of hearing and my "spidey sense".

_Roll Left._

I rolled left, just in time to avoid kitchen knife thrown at me. I stood up, reading my bow. I shoot it to the direction I knew she was standing.

A shriek confirmed my success. I dove backwards to avoid being slashed. I rubbed my ring, grasping the hilt of the sword that appeared. I rolled up and swung upward.

_CLANG._

The sword was thrown to the side as she swiped her talons. I pulled my hand back and drew my bow and readied my bow. I let go of the bowstring; Medusa dove to the side to avoid it. I stretched out my hand. I willed the sword to zoom back to me. The Medusa got up and launched toward me. The sword zoomed back into my hand. Using the direction it came from as the momentum, I swung my arm the other way to the direction of the Monster.

_shlock._

_THUD._

It was over.

I heard wind rushing in as the monster disintegrated.

I grabbed a plastic bag on the side and stowed away the head and I double wrapped it. I revived my sense of sight.

They were nowhere near me. I grimaced. Chiron was right; we were separated. I had to find them.

"Stupid ancient laws laws..." I grumbled.

But for now, I helped myself to some of the Aunty Em's cheeseburgers.


	9. Chapter 8

Well, that sucked.

Here I was, stranded in middle of nowhere, and my friends were not in his sight. I risked a shout or two, but there was no response.

Least there was plenty of food. I had some time to figure out what my next step should be. If anyone made inquiries while visiting, I'll have an excuse made up.

I wiped my hand on a tissue and began to poke around.

* * *

I searched the back of the warehouse until he found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket.

In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins.

I took the packing slips and leather bags and placed it inside his pack. It'll come handy in future.

I sighed, and sat down on the chair beside the table.

How am I supposed to catch up with the gang now? Presumably they would want to come back to see what happened, but we had little time.

I took out my bag and placed it on the table.

_Clang._

"Stupid glass bottle..." I muttered.

Wait.

Glass bottle containing Nectar and Ambrosia.

I took out the glass jar and the bottle.

Enough for me to use my powers for extended period of time.

I grinned as an idea flew into my mind.

* * *

_BOOM._

I felt the wind rushing in my face as I ran in speed of sound.

Usually, I would not be able to use this power more than a minute, but with taking a sip of Nectar and nibbling Ambrosia squares every while, I managed to sustain enough energy to keep on flying.

The only con was that I had to wear a goggle to be able to see. But it was way worth it.

The nectar was running out. I had to stop soon, unfortunately. And retake in several million calories.

_BOOM._

I stared wide-eyed at the top of Gateway Arch. It was on fire.

Better go see what was going on.

* * *

"Hey, what's going on?"

Annabeth jumped. She swung her knife toward the voice in instinct.

"Hey, hey, easy there. Careful where you swing that thing." I said as I became visible again.

Annabeth breathed again. "You survived?"

"We thought you became a piece of granite!" Grover yelled under his breath. "We have been worried sick about you; by the way, we also have to find Percy!"

"What happened?"

"What happened? He was on the top of the Gateway Arch when it exploded!"

"Top of the Gateway Arch?" I glanced at Annabeth. "I thought Underworld was downstairs."

"We were... sightseeing."

"Sightseeing? At time like this?"

She opened her mouth to make a comeback when she noticed Percy. "There he is!"

"Perrr-cy!" Grover bleated. "We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!"

Annbeth looked angry. Then she looked relieved. Or was it at the same time? "We can't leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?"

Percy chuckled sheepishly. "I sort of fell."

"Percy! Six hundred and thirty feet?"

Behind them, a cop shouted, "Gangway!" The crowd parted, and a couple of paramedics hustled out,

rolling a woman on a stretcher. She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing Chihuahua—"

"Okay, ma'am," the paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is starting to kick in."

"I'm not crazy! This boy jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared." Then she saw Percy. "There he is! That's the boy!"

They disappeared into the crowd.

"What's going on?" Annabeth demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?"

He told them the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, his high-dive act, and the underwater lady's message.

"Whoa," said Grover. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad."

Before Annabeth could respond, they passed another reporter doing a news break, and we almost froze in our tracks when he said, "Percy Jackson. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. And the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson."

We ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley.

"First things first," I told Grover. "We've got to get out of town!"

Somehow, er made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted.

"You guys came here by train?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah. How did you come here?"

"...I ran."

We got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind us.

* * *

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said to Percy. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"We can't use phones, right?"

"I'm not talking about phones."

We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city. Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were three adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good.

"What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked, as Grover took out the spray gun.

"It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?"

"Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out."

I fished out my bit of change and passed Grover a quarter, which left me about 20 dollars and few drachmas from Medusa's place.

"Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."

"What are you talking about?"

He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M"ing."

"Instant messaging?"

"Iris-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods."

"You summon the goddess with a spray gun?"

Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors.

Annabeth held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please."

I handed one over.

She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering."

She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer.

"Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

"Luke!" Percy called.

He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow.

"Percy!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"

"We're ... uh ... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—"

"He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover alright?"

"I'm right here," Grover called. He held the nozzle out to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision.

"What kind of issues?"

Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop.

As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement.

"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled.

"I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight.

"Grover, Helius come on!

"What?" Grover said. "But—"

"Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered.

Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed Percy the spray gun and followed Annabeth.

I followed suit. Soon, we were facing a man, washing a car alone.

"Sir," I said, sounding upfront. "I demand that you turn off your terrible excuse for music at once."

He stared at me, and he ignored us.

Annabeth stepped forward. "Listen, our friend can't talk next stall because of you music."

He shrugged. "Free country. I paid to come here and wash my car. I can turn on music at any time I want."

"Dude," I said forcefully. "Nobody would complain if the music was not terrible. Here, let me adjust it."

I got in the car and turned the radio knob.

"Hey!" the man shouted. Pulling me out. "Don't touch my car!"

Now the "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" was streaming out of the car.

"There." I replied. "That's much better.

_Lovely Is The Feelin' Now... Fever, Temperatures Risin' Now…_

"Listen, I am only going to say this once!" The man shouted. "Don't touch my car!"

_Power (Ah Power) Is The Force The Vow... That Makes It Happen It Asks No Questions Why (Ooh)_

"And I am saying this once too!" I shouted. "Keep the volume down!"

_So Get Closer (Closer Now)... To My Body Now Just Love Me... 'Til You Don't Know How (Ooh)_

"That's it, I am calling the police." The man yelled, taking out his phone.

_Keep On With The Force Don't Stop... Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough!_

"You won't." Annabeth whispered, taking out her knife."

The guy stared wide eyed at the knife, let out a scream, and jumped into the car. He rolled away.

We laughed. We came around the corner to rejoin Percy, but we stopped short when we saw his face.

Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened, Percy? What did Luke say?"

"Not much…"

He held doubt in his voice.

"Come on, let's find some dinner."

A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas.

Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Well?"

Percy said, "We, um, want to order dinner."

"You kids have money to pay for it?"

Grover's lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger.

I began searching my pack for the twenty dollars (the gang looked at me hopefully), when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb.

All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like ... well, Caucasian human skin.

"Ares." I muttered.

As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?"

The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth and Percy against the window.

He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?"

He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, and then marched back toward the kitchen.

The biker looked at Percy. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades, but bad feelings started boiling in my stomach. Anger, resentment, bitterness. I wanted to hit a wall. I wanted to pick a fight with somebody. Who did this guy think he was?

_Calm down_, I told myself.

He gave him a wicked grin. "So you're old Seaweed's kid, huh?"

"What's it to you?"

Annabeth's eyes flashed a warning. "Percy, this is—"

The biker raised his hand.

"S'okay," he said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?"

"You're Clarisse's dad," Percy said. "Ares, god of war."

Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear."

"She was asking for it."

"Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you."

The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.

Ares handed her a few gold drachmas.

She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..."

Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?"

The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold.

"You can't do that," Percy told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife."

Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition. I need you to do me a favor."

"What favor could I do for a god?"

"Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little ... date with my girl-friend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me."

"Why don't you go back and get it yourself?"

The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter.

"Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?"

He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you."

Ouch. Low blow.

"We're not interested," Percy said. "We've already got a quest."

"I know all about your quest, punk. When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well ... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath."

"You told him Hades stole the bolt?"

"Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest."

"Thanks," He grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends."

"We're doing fine on our own."

"Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom."

"My mom?"

He grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride."

"What interrupted your date?" Percy asked. "Something scare you off?"

Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse.

He was nervous. But why?

"You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me."

He disappeared.

"Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good."

I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared.

"It's probably some kind of trick," Percy said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go."

"We can't," Annabeth said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent."

"Why does he need us?"

"Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes."

"But this water park ... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?"

We glanced nervously at each other.

Annabeth said, "I'm afraid we'll have to find out."

The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. It once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D.

* * *

We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of—

"Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes."

"Yeah," Percy said. "But you can't just—"

"Watch me."

She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and disappeared into the changing room. A few minutes later she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, obviously stuffed with more goodies.

"What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all four of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park.

We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath. "So Ares and Aphrodite," I said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, "they have a thing going?"

"That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told me. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip."

"What about Aphrodite's husband?"

"Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The black-smith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?"

"She likes bikers."

"Whatever."

"Hephaestus knows?"

"Oh sure," I said. "Incidentally, my dad, Helios, with his all-seeing, spied on Aphrodite cheating on Hephaestus with Ares. He told Hephaestus, who caught them in a golden net. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like ..."

I stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that."

In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl.

Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire.

On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE!

Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look."

Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze.

"This is too easy," I said. "So we just walk down there and get it?"

Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue.

"There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder ..."

"Grover," Percy said, "you smell any monsters?"

He sniffed the wind. "Nothing."

"Nothing like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna-nothing, or really nothing?"

Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground."

"Okay, I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "I'm going down there."

"I'll go with you." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis.

"No," Percy told him. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes with Helius. You guys are the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong."

Grover puffed up his chest a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling. Annabeth, come with me—"

"Are you kidding?" She looked at him as if he'd just dropped from the moon. Her cheeks were bright red.

I snickered.

"What's the problem now?" He demanded.

"Me, go with you to the ... the 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?"

"Who's going to see you?" But his face was burning now, too. Leave it to a girl to make everything complicated. "Fine," I told her. "I'll do it myself." But when he started down the side of the pool, she followed him, muttering about how boys always messed things up.

I reached the control center. Him, flying with winged shoes were scouting right above Percy and Annabeth to look out for trouble.

It was overlaid with buttons, knobs, levers, and gauges. It looked more like a control panel of a ship rather than a water park.

We looked outside. Percy and Annabeth were already on the boat retrieving the items.

_TING._

Suddenly, noise of million gears meshing together was heard.

Grover yelled, "Guys!"

Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before we could warn the guys, they shot, but not at them. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net.

They struggled to get out of the pool, but they were falling.

"Come on!" Grover shouted.

He was trying to hold open a section of the net for them, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands.

The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cam-eras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ...Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..."

His stomach sank. A trap. Trap meant to capture Ares and Aphrodite together, but it caught them instead.

Percy and Annabeth almost reached the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic spiders poured out.

He was able to hear her scream all the way over here.

It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, and little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward them in a wave of clicking, whirring metal.

The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding them.

They climbed into the boat. Percy started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. He yelled at Annabeth for help, but she was too paralyzed to do much more than scream.

"Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker.

The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming.

Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge.

Think, I told myself. Think.

"Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called.

"Helius!" Percy yelled. "Find the 'on' switch!"

"But—"

"Do it!"

I was slamming away at the buttons.

"Five, four—"

I raised my hands at Percy hopelessly.

"Two, one, zero!"

Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. Percy pulled Annabeth into the seat next to him and fastened her seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into their boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing the boat completely, but not capsizing them. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool.

The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst.

Spotlights glared down at them. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus.

The boat spun toward the exit and it was gone.

Grover and I exchanged a look. We had to get over there.

We flew toward the other side of the ride. The Gateway was chained, but somehow Percy and Annabeth were flying toward the asphalt just missing the pool.

We grabbed them.

Annabeth yelled, "Ouch!"

"You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!"

We spiraled toward the ground, us doing his best to slow the fall.

We smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Annabeth and Percy and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive.

Once we caught our breath, Annabeth and Percy got Grover out of the photo-board and thanked us for saving their lives. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. The boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates.

A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces.

"Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Good night!"

The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good.

Percy looked pissed. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."


	10. Chapter 9

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," Percy said.

Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled black-smith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

Percy shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."

We caught our breath.

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed its form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner.

"That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could "see" what it was saying. KINDNESS INTER-NATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

"You're kidding," I said.

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to Percy.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuff Oreos.

Percy said, "I don't want your lousy—"

"Thank you, Lord Ares," I interrupted, giving me his best red-alert warning look. "Thanks a lot."

He gritted his teeth. It was plain that he didn't want anything that Ares had touched.

* * *

We ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind us.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like the world's biggest pan of kitty litter.

The trailer was dark inside until Percy uncapped Anaklusmos. The blade cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three of the most pathetic zoo animals I'd ever beheld: a zebra, a male albino lion, and a antelope.

Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he obviously didn't want to eat. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a stupid silver birthday balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL!

Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur.

I felt surge of anger at the Kindness International.

"This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?"

I probably would have gone out and beaten up those truckers, but just then the trucks engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and we were forced to sit down or fall down.

We huddled in the corner on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at him sadly.

We refilled their bowls with water we found and Percy rearranged their food with his sword.

Grover calmed the antelope down, while Annabeth used her knife to cut the balloon off his horn. She wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra's mane, too, but we decided that would be too risky with the truck bumping around. We told Grover to promise the animals we'd help them more in the morning, then we settled in for night.

I crossed my legs and closed my eyes.

* * *

I snapped my eyes open.

I groaned. Not again.

Having power of prophecy may have its perks, but not when you have dreams every time you sleep. Dreams consisting of myths; the origins of the Gods, the various stories and what not.

I made myself comfortable and wondered what story the dream was going to show me this time.

I was stranded in middle of darkness.

Out of nowhere, a seed came, and it became Gaia. Gaia gave birth to Ouranos. Ouranos and Gaia gave birth to Pontus. And out came all other immortals. Protogenoi, Titans, etc.

The scene changed.

Ouranos was shouting at Gaia about giving birth to hideous creatures, while Gaia was covering Elder Cyclops and Hecatonchires protectively. Despite Gaia's protest, He threw them into Tartarus.

Gaia's eyes dangerously glinted. She swore revenge.

Sometime later, she gathered tons of grey flint out of the earth and made a scythe. She went to her sons, the Titans and implored them for revenge. Only Kronos was brave enough to step up to the challenge. He challenged Ouranos, swinging the scythe and castrating Ouranos. Out of the blood that fell, out came the Furies, the Giants, and Aphrodite.

I woke with a start.

* * *

Grover was shaking my shoulder. "The trucks stopped," he said. "We think they're coming to check on the animals."

"Hide!" Annabeth hissed.

Annabeth and I had it easy. We just disappeared. Grover and Percy had to dive behind feed sacks and hoped to look like turnips.

The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in.

"Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. "I wish I hauled appliances."

He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, and then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face.

The lion roared in indignation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said.

The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin', Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!"

The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at the feed sacks.

There was a loud knock, knock, knock on the side of the trailer.

The trucker inside with us yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?"

Eddie's voice outside shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

Knock, knock, knock.

Outside, Eddie yelled, "What banging?"

Our guy Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot.

A second later, Annabeth appeared next to me. She must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer. She said, "This transport business can't be legal."

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!"

"We've got to free them!" Grover said. We looked at Percy, waiting for his lead.

Outside, Eddie and Maurice were still yelling at each other, but I knew they'd be coming inside to torment the animals again any minute.

Percy grabbed Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage. The zebra burst out. It turned to him and bowed. Grover held up his hands and gave the zebra Satyr's Sanctuary. Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. We rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs.

We'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

Maurice and Eddie ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," Annabeth said.

"The other animals first," Grover said.

I cut the locks with my sword. Grover raised his hands and spoke the same blessing he'd used for the zebra.

"Good luck," I told the animals. The antelope and the lion burst out of their cages and went off together into the streets.

Some tourists screamed. Most just backed off and took pictures, probably thinking it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos.

"Will the animals be okay?" Percy asked Grover. "I mean, the desert and all—"

"Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they'll reach the wild safely," he said. "They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need until they find a safe place to live."

"Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" Percy asked.

"It only works on wild animals."

"So it would only affect Percy," Annabeth reasoned.

"Hey!" He protested.

"Mate," I said grinning "You'll need some ice for that burn."

"Kidding," she said. "Come on. Let's get out of this filthy truck."

We stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and we must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay us much attention.

We passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. We passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty.

The disturbing dream was roaming around in back of my mind constantly.

We must have taken a wrong turn, because we found ourselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air-conditioning that smelled like lotus blossom.

The doorman smiled at us. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?"

I narrowed my eyes. This place was... familiar. I scrunched my eyes in concentration.

Yes, I had a very bad feeling about this. Before I could say anything Percy accepted the request, and we went inside. My brain was screaming same word over and over: Trap!

The whole lobby was a giant game room. And I'm not talking about cheesy old Pac-Man games or slot machines. There was an indoor waterslide snaking around the glass elevator, which went straight up at least forty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee-jumping bridge. There were virtual-reality suits with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV. Basically, you name it, this place had it. There were a few other kids

playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving every kind of food you can imagine.

"Hey!" a bellhop said. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key."

Percy stammered, "Um, but..."

"No, no," he said, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, loom 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your LotusCash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides."

He handed us each a green plastic credit card.

Percy took the card. "How much is on here?"

His eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when does it run out of cash?"

He laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay."

We took the elevator upstairs and checked out our room. It was a suite with four separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. A hotline to room service. Fluffy towels and water beds with feather pillows. A big-screen television with satellite and high-speed Internet. The balcony had its own hot tub, and sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and plug them with your gun. The view over the Strip and the desert was amazing, though I doubted we'd ever find time to look at the view with a room like this.

"Oh, goodness," Annabeth said. "This place is ..."

"Sweet," Grover said. "Absolutely sweet."

So far there was no suspicious activities going on here. But still, my mind kept on numbly screaming: Trap!

There were clothes in the closet, and they fit me. This was too much for a coincidence.

I took a shower. After a week of grimy travel, this was much better. I changed clothes, ate a bag of chips, drank three Cokes, and came out feeling better than I had in a long time. In the back of my mind, the information the dream gave me was still roaming around.

I came out of the bedroom and found that rest of the team had also showered and changed clothes. Percy was eating potato chips to his heart's content, while Annabeth cranked up the National Geographic Channel.

"All those stations," I told her, "and you turn on National Geographic. Are you insane?"

"It's interesting."

"I feel good," Grover said. "I love this place."

Without his even realizing it, the wings sprouted out of his shoes and lifted him a foot off the ground, then back down again.

"So what now?" Annabeth asked. "Sleep?"

Grover and Percy looked at each other and grinned. We both held up our green plastic LotusCash cards.

"Play time," Percy said.

They all ran out of the room.

I shook my head and opened my laptop.

I screwed my eyes in concentration. Lotus Casino... Obviously a pseudonym, seeing that there was no such thing as casino in Ancient Greece.

But I couldn't help but feel uneasy in this place.

I went down to the arcade center and began to play Super Smash Bros Brawl.

I started talking to people, and I found it wasn't easy. They were glued to the TV screen, or the video game, or their food, or whatever. I found a guy who told me it was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1993. They all claimed they hadn't been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn't really know and they didn't care.

Then it occurred to me: how long had I been here? It seemed like only a couple of hours, but was it?

I tried to remember why we were here. We were going to Los Angeles. We were supposed to find the entrance to the Underworld... For a second, I forgot why we were here.

War. World War III. They were going to stop the war from occurring.

I found Percy playing Pac Man.

"Percy." I shook him on the shoulder. "We've got to get out of here man."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked, his eyes still glued to the game. "We've been here only for few minutes.

"Listen, it's a trap. I remember now. I know why the name of this hotel is so familiar. Its Lotus Hotel. Back in Ancient Greece, Odysseus discovered this tribe called Lotus-eaters, and once you take a bite of their Lotus, bam. You never want to leave. But I have no time to explain what happened. We have to get out of here, now."

"Just few more minutes."

I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to me.

"Your mom, remember? We have to save her."

That brought him back to reality.

"...No, how long have we been here?"

"I don't know. You find Annabeth, and I'll find Grover."

We went searching, and I found him still playing Virtual Deer Hunter.

"Grover!" I shouted.

He said, "Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!"

"Grover!"

He turned the plastic gun on me and started clicking, as if I were just another image from the screen.

I took his arms and dragged him with me. Percy and Annabeth caught up.

The Lotus bellhop hurried up to us. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?"

"We're leaving," I told him.

"Such a shame," he said, and I got the feeling that he really meant it, that we'd be breaking his heart if we went. "We just added an entire new floor full of games for platinum-card members."

He held out the cards, and I wanted one. I knew that if I took one, I'd never leave. I'd stay here, happy forever, playing games forever, and soon I'd forget my mom, and my quest, and maybe even my own name. I'd be playing Super Smash Bros. forever.

Grover reached for the card, but Annabeth yanked back his arm and said, "No, thanks."

We walked toward the door, and as we did, the smell of the food and the sounds of the games seemed to get more and more inviting. I thought about our room upstairs. We could just stay the night, sleep in a real bed for once...

Then we burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It felt like afternoon,

about the same time of day we'd gone into the casino, but something was wrong. The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.

I closed my eyes and screwed them in concentration. What day was it today?

_July twentieth._

We had been in the Lotus Casino for five days.

We had only one day left until the summer solstice. One day to complete our quest.


	11. Chapter 10

Well, I had a plan to get us to Los Angeles on time.

We hailed a cab. We loaded ourselves on the back.

"Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."

"You accept casino debit cards?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."

I gave him my green LotusCash card.

He looked at it skeptically.

"Swipe it," I invited.

He did.

His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.

The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?"

"Santa Monica Pier." I grinned. "If you get us there fast, I'll let you keep the change."

Maybe I shouldn't have told him that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert.

Percy began to tell us his dream on the way to Vegas. By the time he arrived to the point where he told us about where the monster in the pit noticed him, the details got sketchier. Guess his experience in that Hotel rattled him.

"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe ..." Percy said.

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described."

He shook his head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit ... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

Annabeth's eyes widened. My eyes narrowed.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh ... nothing. I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"

"Like what?"

"I—I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

She looked pale.

"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," Percy asked, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat."

"Why, thank you."

"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," Percy said. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified.

Annabeth was looking at me as if she knew my next question, and was silently willing me not to ask it.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" I asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Helius ... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades ... No. It has to be Hades."

I sighed. I knew what she was thinking. Most likely, it was not Hades...

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

* * *

I opened them. I was used to this routine. Every time I sleep, I dream.

I hated it. Can't a guy have a peaceful dream? All these visions I saw was either A, gruesome, or B, terrifying.

And people wonder why I have insomnia.

I was in dark room with a lone Throne in the middle.

A man sat in the middle. He had long Dark Navy hair, a beard trailing down to his chest. He had golden eyes, with impenetrable darkness and fear surrounding him.

"RHEA!" He roared. "Where is the child?"

A woman came in, trembling before him.

"Here is our first child." She whispered, showing him a girl covered in blanket.

She had mousy hair with warm and cozy eyes of fire.

Kronos contemplated the infant in his hands. Then he opened his jaws and swallowed her.

Rhea screamed, shaking in shock. "What are you doing!?"

Kronos grimaced. "It is for the best." he muttered. "One of your children is going to overthrow me. I cannot let that happen."

I woke up to the sound of Rhea's screams.

* * *

"Hey," Grover shook me awake. "We're here."

At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.

We walked down to the edge of the surf.

"What now?" Annabeth asked.

Percy stepped on to the surf.

"Percy?" Annabeth said. "What are you doing?"

He kept walking, up to his waist, then his chest.

She called after him, "You know how polluted that water is? There're all kinds of toxic—"

"Lay off of him Annabeth." I waved my arms. "Maybe he is doing something."

"Doing what?" Annabeth demanded, looking out to the ocean.

I shrugged. I sat down and took out four sandwiches.

* * *

When he came back to the beach, his clothes dried instantly.

"Hey guys," he greeted.

"Hey." I replied. I offered him a sandwich. He refused.

"I have to tell you something." Percy said, taking out four pearls.

"You found four clams with pearls inside them?" I asked skeptically.

"Nah. I found someone named Nereid. She gave me these pearls and all sorts of advice or something."

Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

"They were free."

"No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."

On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea.

With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. I showed the driver the Underworld address slip I'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?"

"Uh ... I'm a stunt double ... for a lot of child actors."

"Oh! That explains it."

We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop.

We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.

Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars.

Percy froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody. He was talking to Barbara Walters—I mean, as if he were some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in some apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.

A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife ... my Camaro ... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

"There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy shot of us four standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.

"Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

I had to haul Percy away from the appliance store before he could punch a wall on that glass.

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging.

As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

We stopped.

Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys.

Percy uncapped Riptide.

When the sword appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at Percy with a switchblade.

Percy made the mistake of swinging.

The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred per-cent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the ..."

I figured we had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed at Annabeth and Grover and Percy.

We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner.

"There!" Annabeth shouted.

Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.

Crusty's Water Bed Palace?

It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.

"I think we lost them," Grover panted.

A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?"

Percy, Grover and Annabeth jumped.

Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to.

His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them.

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

_Yes you are_, I automatically responded inside my head.

"Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just, um, browsing."

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom.

There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O.

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway.

"Um," I said, "I don't think ..."

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

Percy picked one right beside it, cautiously lying on the water bed. Then he relaxed.

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" I asked.

He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Annabeth said, "But what—"

He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.

"Hey!" she protested.

Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress.

Grover and Percy tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

"N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and grinned. "Almost, darn it."

I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

"Let my friends go."

"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

"What do you mean?"

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

My friends kept struggling.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!"

A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around their ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends.

"Don't worry," Crusty told me, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

"Helius!" Grover yelled.

Wait a minute, Crusty? Procrustes?

"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" I asked.

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.

"The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens.

"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

His eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

He grinned hugely, but his fingers didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

"Not too many."

"That's right!"

"Helius!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"

"Don't mind her," I told Procrustes. "She's impossible."

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

"What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

"Ah," I said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Percy was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose.

"So, Crusty ..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

"Absolutely. Try it out."

"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

"Show me."

He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"

I snapped my fingers. "Ergo."

Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"Center him just right," I said.

The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.

"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."

I lifted the bronze axe. "A few simple adjustments ..."

I had no qualms about what I was about to do. If he was a monster, he deserved to turn into dust for a while.

"You drive a hard bargain," he told me. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'"

"I think I'll start with the top." I raised the axe.

"No money down! No interest for six months!"

"Make it twelve and I'll think about it."

I swung the axe. Crusty stopped making offers.

I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover and Percy got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot.

"You look taller," I said.

"Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."

I looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

"Come on," I told my friends.

"Give us a minute," Percy complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'"

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."


	12. Chapter 12

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DAO RNCDIOREG SUSODIT.

_DAO RECORDING STUDIOS,_ I automatically translated.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

"Lovely place." I muttered.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

Percy turned toward us. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

"Best plan I heard in my life." I replied sarcastically.

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative."

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

I eyed my ring. The etched letterings seemed to glow brighter as we entered the place of the dead.

Annabeth placed her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave me and Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem." I nodded along with his words; too busy concentrating on my ring.

"Let's whip some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

"Busy afterlife they're having." I commented casually.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, and then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

I face-palmed.

He leaned across the desk.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-AR-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," Percy repeated.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at Annabeth.

"We want to go the Underworld," she said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" she asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um ... drowned ... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked.

"Actually I died from dysentery." They stared at me weirdly. "That's what Oregon Trail always said when I asked how I died."

Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." I set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash I'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now ..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

Then Charon looked at me. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through my chest.

"Here now," he said to Percy. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," I insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but Percy snatched them back.

"No service, no tip."

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years.

Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

Percy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you four and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling,

"Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's ... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," I said.

"Ha."

My vision turned yellow. We weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying. Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He caught us looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing."

I was the only light source in the entire elevator.

The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

Elevator became a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed car-nations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so ..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

"Well, pretty cheerful place you got here." I commented, trying to lighten the mood. In reality, my sprites were going low and low.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, and then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were toll booths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that.

"I want to be a judge when I die." I said casually.

They stared at me.

"What?"

Annabeth shook her head.

"Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh,"

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

Percy recognized him. "Oh, yeah. What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

"Ouch." I shuddered.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet. Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

"He's a Rottweiler."

I stared at Percy. "That's what you say when you see a three headed dog?"

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all... Well, they were already dead, so I guess they had nothing to fear.

The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

"I remember a year where Cerberus was taken away for a while." I said, staring at Cerberus.

Annabeth frowned. "I don't remember Cerberus going missing."

"Oh he didn't go missing." I continued. "In the year 1990, Hades took special visit to somewhere named Leaky Caldron. He sold Cerberus under the name "Fluffy" for two years to a half-giant to guard something called Sorcerer's Stone in this place called Hogwarts. Hades' mission was to check out the place for their intentions. Apparently, they have a special area where people who call themselves wizards hide out and train their young to practice magic. It was outside our domain of magic, as if they were some sort of beings from another universe... it's not the first time we found places where strange beings exist somehow; impossible for them to exist, but somehow they do."*

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to me. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, and then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" Percy asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of my backpack—a bedpost he had broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up.

Percy tried to smile. Keyword: tried.

"Hey, Big Fella," Percy called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," Percy said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on him, completely ignoring the spirits.

"Fetch!" Percy threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it goker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at him, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well ... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

Uh-oh, I thought.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

Annabeth said, "Good boy!"

"Interesting." I muttered as I inspected the flattened spirits.

She threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" Annabeth ordered.

"Urg," I said, clutching my head. "Now you got that song stuck in my head."

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward us. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

"But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

We inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you?" I asked Annabeth as we passed her.

"I know what I'm doing, Helius," she muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure... ."

We walked between the monster's legs.

Please, Annabeth, I prayed. Don't tell him to sit again.

We made it through. Cerberus wasn't any less scary-looking from the back.

Annabeth said, "Good dog!"

She held up the tattered red ball. If she rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick.

She threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"How did you do that?" Percy asked her, amazed.

"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, and I was not surprised to see there were tears in her eyes.

"When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman..."

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at our shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth stopped.

She turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I—I promise." Annabeth turned to us. "Let's go."

Grover and I pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

*Shout out to Harry Potter!


End file.
